


Everywhere and Nowhere

by smileyrametta



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Crying, Love Confessions, M/M, So much kissing, two boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 04:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17718482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileyrametta/pseuds/smileyrametta
Summary: With wine melting through his veins and a beautiful boy in his arms, Elia can't hold back the surges of love he's feeling, and with his tongue lazy and sated, he doesn't even try and keep his feelings to himself.





	Everywhere and Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on my [tumblr](http://smileyrametta.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!

Heat balmed over their skin, sapping any willpower they had not to come crumbling into each other’s arms away in spades. Wine had given them lips curving upward toward the sun that was melting into the horizon like a hot pad of butter. The route they had chosen was secluded, just the two of them, dozens of nooks ripe for secret embraces that lingered like the taste of the alcohol on their tongues, languid as the cats pranced atop buildings and fences, the only thing enough to break their embrace.

 

A ginger cat wound between Filippo’s legs, tail curling around his ankle, and the two boys couldn’t help but let giggles trickle from their lips. Elia was feeling the heat of the wine in his veins, even more than the air gasping across his skin, and the fuzzy cat only added to the feeling that everything was softening in Filippo’s presence. The haziness in the way the other boy’s fingers were curling into the patch of baby hairs at the nape of Elia’s neck, the way Filippo’s hair was so artfully messy, all Elia’s doing, and the way their smiles met halfway, lilting and full of comfort.

 

The cat seemed to decide his mewling against the blonde haired boy’s ankles was all for naught, and slipped away, tail painting the air as it meandred toward a nearby bush. With a second’s glance, Elia could feel Filippo was on the teetering edge of going after it, of sweeping it in his arms and, whether or not the cat was consenting, peppering the tangerine fur with pets. Elia could even feel the pull of the boy in his arms, veering toward the animal, near out of reach.

 

Elia shook his head, pressing his palm into the boy’s waist, “come back to me,” Elia prompted him, and Filippo’s eyes focused on him once more. Elia nearly choked up at the sight of the boy’s lips, parted and pink with his fetching eyes marking up Elia’s features.

 

Then Filippo was cresting forward, and Elia was arching forward, both straining for the touch of the other, despite their hands that had already connected them throughout it all. Filippo captured Elia’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, lurring a moan from the depths of Elia’s gut.

 

“With pleasure, darling,” Filippo drawled, and with the smell of jasmine swirling around his tongue, he laid a petal delicate kiss on Elia’s lips, giving Elia the time to let their kiss sink to his core.

 

It took nearly Elia’s entire being holding itself back to not sink his tongue deep within the cavern of Filippo’s mouth, drinking in his taste, wanting to get drunk on his boyfriend even more than he already was. But that’s not what was happening, and the more the champagne tingles across his skin lit him on fire, the more he leant into the light brushes of lips, an entirely different way of savouring. Savouring not in deep gulps but in shallow sips, sips meant for you to follow the  swish of the wine around the glass where you inhale the aroma. They were the kind of sip that helps you decipher the undertones, the hints that hide away from your tongue with a normal swig.

 

And what did Filippo taste like? He tasted like the tenderness he hid from others, that he only allowed Elia to truly see and his lilting voice when Elia had first heard him singing. He tasted like the late nights they had spent sapping gentle words to each other until they could barely hold back the sleep and the mornings bright and vibrant as they peeled their tacky hands from each other.

 

The fuzzy warmth almost overtook Elia when they stepped back from the assault of affection, falling headfirst into a hug that truly was too warm, too stifling in the heat, but that Elia would never dream of breaking.

 

“Want to go home?” Filippo whispered right into Elia’s ear, husky air wafting across his earlobe.

 

“No,” Elia mumbled, lazily nosing along the warm skin of Filippo’s shoulder, nudging the fabric of his shirt away, stretched neckline be damned. Filippo’s hands meanwhile, had tiptoed from the nape of his neck to smooth across the plane of Elia’s back, burning right through his shirt to imprint themselves on his nerves.

 

Filippo chuckled, “Where then?”

 

Elia withdrew, reluctantly plying his lips from the supple, tender skin at the juncture of Filippo’s neck and shoulder, moving instead to cup the boy’s face with his hand, thumb brushing along his cheek with fragility, as if he would break the boy with any more force.

 

“You’re so beautiful baby,” Elia crooned, leaned backwards into the fence, which creaked beneath his weight, but held them both.

 

Filippo’s pink lips parted, as if about to speak, but fluttered closed instead as his cheeks bloomed with a flush under Elia’s fingers, only standing to make him even more beautiful under the tangerine sky as he leaned into Elia’s touch.

 

How could Elia not feel a surge of admiration and love for the boy then, when they were both sated and luxuriously happy, with no rush or place to be.

 

“Darling, you get so sappy when you drink wine,” Filippo drawled, sliding one palm under Elia’s shirt, pressing it firmly to his waist.

 

“You know you love it,” Elia murmured, pressing an almost non-existant kiss to the other boy’s nose, feeling some sort of duty to luxuriate in his tipsy, sappy state, where nothing felt impossible and his heart was swollen beyond belief.

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

Elia bit his lip, words settling on his lips, about to jump into the abyss, three little words that would change everything, some part of his mind knew that and feared, but so much of him soared at the thought of Filippo hearing them, a prayer for the two of them, just the two of them.

 

“Guess what I love?” Elia teased, fingering at the collar of Filippo’s shirt, perhaps his unconscious brain trying to lift the unease from his gut that he was then numb to.

 

“Wine,” Filippo grinned, “and weed,” he added with a nearly silent chuckle, only visible from the shake of his chest.

 

“Both true,” Elia chuckled along, “But I love something much more than either.”

 

Surge after surge, electric in his bloodstream, pumped through his body. It was neither positive nor negative, but intense as lightning, bringing the feeling of tears brimming to the surface, and the deep desire to bury his face Filippo’s neck and never come up for air.

 

“I love you.”

 

Like a caged bird set free, Elia felt lightheaded, soaring upwards into the lilac clouds and beyond, watching the morphing, adapting expression on Filippo’s face. It was one of awe, one of confusion, one of self encompassing affection.

 

“I love you so much baby,” Elia repeated, needing the boy to hear it again, needed himself to hear it again, to feel the way it licked his wounds to taste the words on his tongue.

 

“Me too,” Filippo cut in, driving forward to kiss Elia, “I think I may have loved you since I met you.”

 

“Bullshit,” Elia shook his head, biting his own lip as they clung to one another, “I call bullshit on that.”

 

Filippo rolled his eyes, but in such a way that fondness poured from him in spades, despite his intentions.

 

Long sprawling kisses followed, kisses worth bracing against with palms pressed to the fence. When they parted, Elia was surprised to find his cheek wet with tears, though not his own. Filippo looked bashful when their eyes connected, and the look of soft, emotional, young looking Filippo brought a new force of love to shudder through him.

 

“Look who’s talking about being sappy,” Elia teased, brushing a tear from the boy’s cheek tenderly.

 

“You never did say where you wanted to go,” Filippo mused, and Elia leaned forward, lips nearly brushing against the boy’s skin on their way to his ear.

 

“Nowhere, or everywhere,” Elia felt his wine sent tears prick his eyes once more, “wherever you are baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on my [tumblr](http://smileyrametta.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
